


Monster

by maypoison



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock Imagines, Contest Entry, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maypoison/pseuds/maypoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine trying on Sherlock’s coat when he is out, only to find that it is way too big for you, and you start doing the “T-Rex” arms with the sleeves, and you turn around and freeze when you see Sherlock watching you from the doorway.</p><p>(This fic won 2nd place, and so was the runner up in the 'BBC Sherlock Imagines' One Shot competition!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster

You were alone, and so very bored.

Your roommate, the famous detective Sherlock Holmes, had gone out to meet Detective Lestrade for a last minute conversation about the latest case he was working on, and you were sure that he wouldn’t be back for a few hours or so. Sherlock had been in such a rush, that he hadn’t had time to try and look for his coat in the small flat you both shared.

Yesterday, you and Sherlock had gone to investigate a case that required you both to be undercover. The detective had conducted his very own fashion show as you had been sat in the living room, trying desperately not to injure yourself from laughing too hard. Sherlock had pulled out and put on _every_ outfit that he owned, before deciding on being a very respectable Community Support Officer. In the chaos, Sherlock’s coat had been buried under a pile of rejected clothes, and so now it was up to you to find it …

You bob your head to the music blaring from the kitchen, before placing another perfectly folded item back in your friend’s cupboard. Looking down at the floor, or at least, where the floor should be, you sigh. You were nowhere near finished, and you were so bored.

Sherlock made a huge amount of money as a Consulting Detective, and so you had both silently agreed that you would spend your free time helping Mrs Hudson look after the flat. You didn’t mind, as you actually liked housework. It gave you ideas sometimes, or got you away from the computer for a few hours. After all, being a student sometimes got a bit repetitive. Eat, sleep, write, read, study … repeat.

Living with Sherlock changed that to eat, sleep, chase criminals, read, study, interview mass murderer … you couldn’t complain about _that_ being repetitive.

Reaching down, your hand grasps something dark and soft, and you actually have to resist the urge to fist pump in the air when you spot it. Sherlock’s coat!

Smiling, and still swaying your body slightly to the music, you clamber over the pile of clothes, and walk out into the living room, intent on hanging up the ridiculously expensive item of clothing. Just as you move to place it carefully on a peg, your hands caress the long worn sleeves.

Huh, it felt really cosy …

You take it down from the peg, and feel the inside. No wonder Sherlock never took this thing off! Smiling, you wrap the large around your small body, before thinking ‘screw it’ and trying the thing on.

It was blissfully comfortable … but huge!

In engulfed you, and you actually laugh out loud when you look down and spot the sleeves that were hanging over your hands. 

Automatically, you begin to screech and claw the air, transforming yourself into what you were sure was the prefect impression of a T-rex. Suddenly, you think you hear someone’s voice, but can’t be sure and so ignore it, and continue your escapades.

Once again, you think you hear a voice, and so look up to investigate. Standing in the doorway of the living room, you find your roommate, who looked positively gleeful.

Sherlock doesn’t say a word, and you gulp.

Pulling off his leather gloves, the detective smirks slightly to himself, before he very slowly approaches the CD player resting on the cluttered kitchen table, and calmly reaches out a hand. The music fades down into a quiet lull in the background as your friend turns down the volume, and it’s only then that you realise just how loud it had been. Did Mrs Hudson hear anything? Oh, god …

You remain standing frozen in the living room, watching your roommate with wide eyes, and feeling your face burn a deep crimson.

“I was cleaning.” You mumble dumbly, and Sherlock looks around, and takes in the mess.

“Really?” He asks incredulously, and you nod.

“Yep …”

“And that required the ridiculous physical movement and sound effects?”

You wince. Oh god, how long had he been watching you?! “I found your coat.” You try, but Sherlock was still smiling.

“I noticed.”

“Stop it.” You snap, only making Sherlock’s smile wider; if that was even possible.

“What?

“You’re enjoying this.”

The detective cocks his head slightly, almost as if he were contemplating your words, before nodding to himself, and smirking. “Very much so.”

“I was bored …” You whine back, about to take off the coat. You stop however, when you notice Sherlock was raising an eyebrow at you, and had crossed his arms over his chest. Clearly, he wasn’t impressed with your tidying skills. “At least I don’t _shoot holes in the walls_ when I’m bored!” You growl back, before waving a hand towards the smiling face painted on the walls, and the bullet holes surrounding him.

Sherlock pulls a face, before shrugging.

“No, you just do absolutely terrible impressions of dinosaurs.”

You grimace, and shift on your feet awkwardly. “They weren’t, that bad … were they?”

You look down at your covered arms, and hold them up as you had been doing before. You recreate what you had been doing, this time listening to your voice without the blaring music. Sherlock was right, you weren’t even close. You stand a little straighter, attempting to improve your ‘T-rex’ stance.

Sherlock sighs, before turning and walking down the corridor to his bedroom. You hear him mumble before he closes the door, and have to stifle a smile, before you resume your activities, but much louder. After all, Sherlock wouldn’t be able to hear as well with the door shut …

“Am I getting better!” You shout towards the Detective, before resuming your screeches.

“No.” Sherlock replies back loudly, before sighing. “I’ve created a monster …”


End file.
